My absurd experiences in North America over the years

As I walked out of the courthouse, the Manhattan sky took on a sickly leaden gray hue.

The heavy snow had stopped, but the clouds hung extremely low, like an old cotton quilt soaked with dirty water, heavily covering the city and making it somewhat suffocating.

Li Fu walked up the steps in front of the courthouse, his dark gray cashmere coat fluttering in the biting wind.

Ivanka walked beside him, her collar turned up, covering half of her chin, revealing only her eyes, which calmly swept across the distance.

Reporters smelled blood in the news and swarmed forward like piranhas.

The flashing lights were frantically cutting the dark steps into pieces, and countless microphones were densely packed together, almost poking the two of them in the noses.

"Mr. Li, the jury failed to reach a unanimous verdict. Do you consider this a victory or a defeat?"

Li Fu stopped in his tracks, his gaze sweeping over the reporter who had asked the question like a blade, his tone calm yet chilling.

"I was framed. The surveillance footage is crystal clear, and the evidence I submitted is irrefutable. With such solid evidence, how could anyone on the jury still think I should be held responsible? This has nothing to do with victory or defeat. What we should be thinking about is why this happened. If this is the justice system in New York, then I can only say that this is my last investment in New York."

The reporter opened his mouth, but was rendered speechless by the invisible pressure.

Li Fu didn't look at him again, nor did he answer any more questions. He turned and got into the black sedan, slamming the door shut and completely shutting out the noise.

The air on the top floor of Trump Tower is dry and warm.

Trump did not sit behind the desk that symbolized power, but stood with his back to the door in front of the huge floor-to-ceiling window.

Outside the window, the snowscape of Central Park resembled an unfinished ink painting, the gray-white skyline appearing particularly desolate in the twilight.

He was holding a glass of Diet Coke, the ice cubes making a crisp sound as they hit the glass.

The secretary pushed open the door and entered, her voice cautious: "Sir, the mayor's office hotline is ringing again."

"Let them wait," Trump said without turning his head, his voice devoid of emotion. He slammed his Coke cup heavily on the table.

A short while later, his personal cell phone rang.

The call connected, and on the other end was Michael Bloomberg, the mayor of New York City and a media mogul worth billions, who was at a crucial stage in his re-election campaign.

His voice came through the electricity, carrying the rationality of someone from Wall Street and the shrewdness unique to politicians: "Donald, I have a thorough understanding of the Queens case. Frankly, the current public opinion is very unfavorable to you. We need some time to control the situation."

"Control the situation?" Trump scoffed, his voice suddenly rising. "Listen, Mike, nobody knows New York's infrastructure better than me. I took over those messes nobody dared touch, I saved those awful municipal projects. But a bunch of filthy gangs are causing trouble on my turf, and the police are covering for them? This is a disaster!"

He angrily vented his dissatisfaction.

Not long ago, these high-ranking municipal officials were still flattering him, urging him to start construction as soon as possible.

"Calm down, I'll find a way to resolve this as soon as possible," Bloomberg said gently. Although he didn't like Trump's style of doing things, he could only put up with it for now.

If Trump were to simply walk away and announce the withdrawal of funding, his record would be ruined.

"It's not about finding a solution, it's about absolutely solving it. Let me tell you, if you can't even protect my investors, if you can't even handle this little thing, then you'd better pray that you can find someone like me to take over those big projects next."

Trump has revealed his trump card: he must force the city government to do what it is supposed to do.

There was a deathly silence on the other end of the phone.

After a long silence, Bloomberg's voice rang out again, tinged with a weary sense of resignation, "What do you need me to do?"

"First, get the prosecutor's office to drop the charges. They can't win criminally. If they keep pushing, the police department's mess will be thoroughly investigated. As for the civil issues, they'll only delay things," Trump stated his demands.

If civil litigation drags on and on, it will be a long and drawn-out affair. He must resolve this matter at its root.

Bloomberg certainly hopes the lawsuit will end soon, as he is deeply dissatisfied with the Queens district attorney and police department.

Don't create trouble for yourself at such a critical moment.

"I'll send someone to talk to her about this. Do you have any other requests?"

"I paid double the amount of community compensation for that construction site in Queens, but for those who were incited to riot, I want to see police batons, not negotiation experts."

Trump knew very well that those people were either incited or wanted more benefits. He could give them those benefits, but if they still caused trouble, then he would have to deal with them firmly.

"OK, OK," Bloomberg agreed without hesitation. "You provide the specific plan for the community, and I'll get the local police department and committee to cooperate with you."

Trump's tone softened then. He hung up the phone and instructed his secretary to prepare a detailed compensation plan.

That same afternoon, The New York Times once again published a major in-depth commentary on its front page with a shocking title: "Who is fueling the drug epidemic in New York?"

The article also avoided mentioning Li Fu's name, but its content was like a scalpel, precisely dissecting the festering wound of East Queens.

The article cites data presented in court by lawyer Morrison: "In the past three months, there were 47 major drug reports, and the police response rate within 24 hours was less than 5%, while the police responded to the report that framed the Trump Organization in just 25 minutes."

The author's concluding remarks are thought-provoking.

"The fact that an investor who injected funds and created thousands of jobs during the darkest moments of the financial crisis was falsely accused, and that the jury was still arguing so much that the case remained unsolved, is far more despairing than the drugs on the construction site."

This report was quickly shared widely, causing an uproar in public opinion.

The invisible pressure made everyone involved feel somewhat suffocated, including jury members, gangsters, and the Kushners.

The Kushner family's old home in New Jersey.

The fire in the fireplace was burning brightly, and the orange flames reflected on the oil paintings on the wall, making the faces of the ancestors from a hundred years ago appear to be indistinct, like ghosts.

Old Kushner sat behind his desk, holding a cup of coffee that had long since gone cold.

Two newspapers were spread out on the table. The New York Post exclaimed about how to break the jury deadlock, while the New York Times questioned who was paving the way for drugs.

He read it over and over again, finally putting down the newspaper, picking up his cold coffee and drinking it all in one gulp, the bitterness spreading on his tongue.

There was a knock on the study door, and Kushner walked in, standing in the doorway with a serious expression.

"Dad, the district attorney has softened his stance and might drop the charges."

Old Kushner didn't look up. "As expected."

"The FBI raided the Queens Police Department this afternoon. But they probably weren't after us; they were after the police department's network of connections with 'Sin Lords'."

Old Kushner put down his cup, sinking deeper into his leather chair, his gaze unfathomable. "Did that idiot who hid the drugs mention a middleman in his confession?"

"No," Kushner said in a low voice, "He only insisted that it was the 'Sin Lord' who ordered it, and he doesn't know who his superior is."

"That's good," old Kushner said, closing his eyes briefly.

"Dad, should we continue?"

Kushner opened his eyes, his deep brown pupils no longer sharp as before, only a weariness and desolation that said, "You are ultimately too young."

"Child, in this game, withdrawing the lawsuit doesn't mean it's over. The outcome is still far off."

Kushner stood there, watching his father's long shadow stretch out in the firelight, and remained silent for a long time before turning and leaving.

The study door closed.

Old Kushner put on his reading glasses, opened his notebook, slowly wrote a few words on the first page, then closed the notebook, letting the light from the fireplace envelop him.

That evening, District Attorney Parker held a press conference and announced that the prosecution of Li Fu was being terminated due to "insufficient evidence."

However, she chose to ignore many details. She did not mention the video recording, the witnesses, or the bizarre speed of the police response. She didn't even mention the jurors.

She declined to answer reporters' questions on core issues, citing that it was inconvenient for her to answer.

Everyone present knew perfectly well that she didn't really want to drop the charges, even though the other side had solid evidence. She was only forced by circumstances, as the FBI had become deeply involved and claimed that the Sin Lord had committed crimes across state lines.

If she doesn't withdraw, and the investigation really comes down to her, will she still be able to continue working as a prosecutor?

In his hotel room, Li Fu was watching the news on TV when his phone vibrated.

Ivanka's message was concise and clear: "They dropped the charges, the farce is over."

Li Fu put down his phone and looked out the window. The lights of Manhattan were like an inverted galaxy, and the spire of the Empire State Building pierced the night sky, shining with a cold white light.

He was wondering whether he should pursue this matter to the end.

Can we get to the bottom of this?

Should the battle with the gang be stopped short of victory or should they press their advantage?

If the other party is pushed too far, could even the Trump Hotel Tower in Chicago be affected?

After all, Chicago is the stronghold of the Sin Lords.

He closed his eyes and for the first time felt that the social landscape of America was far too complex.

Gangs can operate across states and counties; juries have "absolute" power of judgment; and there are significant differences between criminal and civil proceedings...

There are also environmental protection associations, animal protection associations, labor unions, and so on...

He tried to clear his mind and focus on the next thing, such as the acquisition of Huawei's terminal business, but this matter was like a thorn in his side, something he had to get out of his throat.

The FBI's involvement was due to the Forrest family using their political resources. If they insisted on investigating, they would definitely be able to trace it back to the criminal lord and the Kushner family. He felt that the Kushner family was most likely behind the trouble.

But doing so would escalate the conflict and turn it into a "total war." Is now the right time to start a war?

One enemy was a super-gangster, and the other was a business family with a squid background. Old Kushner was also a well-known political broker in New Jersey.

He is not standing high enough or stable enough yet.

……

While Li Fu was pondering these things, a crisis quietly descended: another buyer emerged for Huawei's terminal business equity.

Kushner persuaded Goldman Sachs to lead a plan to target Li Fu. The reason for targeting Li Fu was not to help Kushner vent his anger, but because they believed that a genius like Li Fu would definitely find something profitable.

Wall Street, Goldman Sachs headquarters building.

Joshua Kushner sat at one end of the conference table, a thick stack of documents spread out in front of him.

He is 26 years old this year and has just graduated from Harvard Business School. He has been working in Goldman Sachs' private equity department for less than half a year. His face still has the naivety of an academic, but his eyes have already learned the subtlety unique to investment banking elites.

There were three other people in the conference room: his direct supervisor, a senior partner in the department, and a senior vice president of the investment banking division who had come from the New York headquarters.

"We were shortlisted in the first round of bidding for Huawei's consumer business in May," Joshua said, flipping through a document and tracing the data table. "Later, due to the financial crisis, Huawei shelved the sale plan, but now, someone has restarted negotiations."

"Who?" the senior partner asked.

"Led by JPMorgan Chase, with Forrest Capital as the main investment firm, and backed by the Forrest family of Tennessee and a Chinese man named Li Fu," Joshua briefly summarized.

"Li Fu?" The senior vice president raised an eyebrow. He recognized the man. "The top trader who escaped unscathed from court yesterday?"

"It's him," Joshua said, trying to keep his voice steady. "Their offer is $2.2 billion for 49 percent of the equity. It's said that JPMorgan Chase will offer $800 million, a French investment bank $200 million, and Forrest Capital $1.2 billion. The funding sources are largely secured."

The meeting room fell silent for a moment.

This is $200 million higher than the previous offer.

"Do you think this project is worth pursuing?" the senior partner asked.

Joshua looked up at his boss. "What I value isn't the project itself, but the projects this man has his eye on. They're definitely worth following. He made three billion in the foreign exchange market, bought up Time Warner and Tribune at the bottom of the financial crisis, and now he's eyeing Huawei's terminal business. He's not gambling; he knows what he's doing."

The senior partner raised an eyebrow. "You have a personal relationship with Li Fu?"

"No," Joshua shook his head, not mentioning that he and Jared were brothers, nor that old Kushner had acted as a go-between, "but his insight is truly something we should take seriously."

The senior vice president closed the document, leaned back in his chair, and said, "We need to come up with a proposal. Our quote should be at least on par with JPMorgan Chase, but with more flexible terms. We want Huawei to know that Goldman Sachs isn't just here for show; they genuinely want to invest."

They were already very optimistic about Huawei as a technology company, but the financial crisis tightened liquidity.

In fact, Goldman Sachs was also a beneficiary of the subprime crisis.

While Li Fu was making a fortune in the foreign exchange market, Goldman Sachs was shorting US stocks and made a huge profit. They could easily withdraw about two billion in liquid funds.